Chapter 20
ELIZABETH
Friday morning arrived to my phone alarm. I grabbed it and shut off the obnoxious sound, noticing there was a text message. I hadn’t even heard it. Yesterday had been a whirlwind. I got home late and pretty much fell into bed.
Annika: Car will be there at eight. Don’t eat anything. We have food at the office. Wear comfortable clothes.
That gave me exactly twelve minutes to get my ass downstairs. So much for easing into the day.
I threw on leggings and a hoodie, grabbed my bag, and stumbled downstairs to find a town car waiting. The driver had coffee ready, which was an absolute blessing. I spent the ride into Manhattan trying to wake up enough to function.
The moment I walked into Blackwell Couture, Annika descended on me like a very well-dressed tornado.
“Good, you’re here. We have exactly ninety minutes before you’re on Morning Manhattan. Come with me.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the makeup room.
“Ninety minutes seems like plenty of—”
“It’s not. Trust me.”
I was deposited in a chair while a team of people swarmed around me. Someone worked on my hair while someone else examined my face with a critical eye. A third person held up dress options while Annika debated the merits of each.
“The blue is too formal for morning TV,” Annika muttered. “But the pink might read too casual on camera. What about the cream?”
“She wore cream for the first appearance,” Mary Jo reminded her.
I would have nodded, but there was an eyeliner pen way too close to my eyeball.
“Blue,” Annika said.
“I like green,” I said quietly.
They both looked at me and then I felt them dismiss the idea.
“Light blue,” Annika said.
The woman that was in charge of picking the outfits from the rack rushed away. She returned with two more options. I would have preferred black or green, but whatever. It was just a show.
I sat perfectly still while they transformed me. My hair was blown out, curled, pinned, sprayed. Makeup was applied with the precision of an artist working on a masterpiece. Then I stepped into the dress Annika had chosen for me, and she zipped it up for me.
The dress was a soft powder blue that somehow managed to look both elegant and approachable.
It was exactly the kind of thing a fashion CEO’s fiancée would wear on morning television.
It had a fitted bodice with a subtle sweetheart neckline and three-quarter sleeves that hit just below my elbows.
The skirt fell to just above my knees. It looked far more expensive than anything I’d ever worn before.
Which, of course, it was.
They paired it with nude heels that added three inches to my height and delicate gold jewelry that added three zeroes to my net worth. When they finally spun me around to face the mirror, I barely recognized myself.
I looked like I belonged in Adrian’s world.
“Perfect,” Annika declared. “You look beautiful. Now go. Adrian’s waiting in the studio.”
She practically shooed me down the hall toward the small studio space we’d used for the Liza Pizza interview. Adrian was already there, and the sight of him made my breath catch.
He wore a black suit with the jacket unbuttoned, no tie, the top button of his white shirt undone. It was casual, but on him, it also looked effortlessly elegant. His hair was styled perfectly. He’d clearly been through his own grooming gauntlet.
He looked like a dream.
“Good morning,” he said as his eyes traveled over me. “You look good enough to marry.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.” I smoothed down my dress nervously. “Are we really doing this? National television?”
“We really are.” He crossed to me and took my hands. I felt that now-familiar steadying effect he had on me. I had been nervous but that one touch was all I needed. “But you’ve got this. We’ve got this. It’s just like the other interview, except more people will be watching.”
“Oh good. No pressure then.”
He smiled, squeezing my hands. “You’re going to be perfect. Just follow my lead, play off whatever I say, and remember—we’re America’s sweethearts now. Everyone already loves us.”
The producer stuck her head in. “Two minutes! Places, please!”
Adrian kept holding my hand as we sat on the couch facing the camera.
“Here we go,” he murmured.
The Morning Manhattan logo appeared on the monitor, followed by the show’s hosts—a perky blonde woman named Jessica and her co-host Michael, who had the kind of smile that probably made him very popular with the over-fifty demographic.
Smarmy. That was my first thought.
But I didn’t have to like him. I just had to smile pretty and look like I was in love.
“And we’re back!” Jessica chirped. “Now, you’ve all seen the headlines. Fashion royalty Adrian Blackwell is engaged! And we have the happy couple here with us this morning to talk about tonight’s big event. Adrian, Elizabeth, welcome!”
“Thanks for having us,” Adrian said smoothly.
The interview flowed easily. They asked questions about how we met, about the ring, and about Fashion of Love Week. I barely said ten words. I didn’t have to. I played my part and let Adrian have the spotlight.
Then Jessica leaned forward with a conspiratorial smile. “Okay, we have a special segment we’d love to do with you two. As America’s newest ‘it couple,’ would you share your Top Three Fashion Tips for New Couples?”
Adrian gently touched my thigh in a silent show of support.
“We’d love to,” I said, surprised my voice came out steady.
Adrian pulled out a card someone had prepared. Did he know the question was coming?
“Number one,” Adrian started. “Match but don’t be twins. It’s fine to complement each other’s style, but you don’t want to be mistaken for coworkers at a corporate retreat.”
“Exactly,” I added. “Coordination, not duplication. If he’s wearing navy, maybe I’ll wear cream with navy accents. We’re a couple, not a uniform.”
I continued reading from the card. “Number two, dress for the same event. If she’s in an evening gown and he’s in sneakers, something went very wrong.”
“Make sure your formality levels match,” Adrian elaborated. “Nothing says ‘we don’t communicate’ like showing up to the same event dressed for completely different occasions. And number three, be comfortable. New couples do a lot of cuddling and snuggling—”
“So much snuggling,” I interjected. Adrian’s smile turned genuine, not practiced. There was an actual sparkle in his eyes.
“If your outfit restricts you from being affectionate, it’s not the right outfit,” Adrian said. “If you can’t lift your arm to wrap around your girl, it’s not the one.”
“That’s wonderful advice!” Michael said. “Though I have to ask, do you two follow your own rules?”
“We try,” Adrian said, looking at me with an expression that made my stomach flip. “Though I’ll admit, I don’t always match properly. Elizabeth has to fix my ties constantly.”
“That’s not true,” I protested. “You always look perfect.”
“Only because you help me.”
The hosts ate it up. We wrapped the segment with some light banter about the show that night. By the time the camera light went off, I was buzzing with adrenaline.
“That was amazing!” Jessica gushed as soon as we were off air. “You two are absolutely adorable together. The chemistry is off the charts.”
If only she knew.
We made it back to Adrian’s office and both collapsed on his couch, the tension finally breaking.
“We did it,” I said, staring at the ceiling. “National television and I didn’t throw up or pass out or say something stupid.”
“You were perfect.” Adrian’s voice was warm. “Better than perfect. You’re a natural at this now.”
“Only because you keep me steady.”
“Come on. We need coffee and carbs before the next round.”
“Next round?” I asked.
“Three more interviews. But they’re just internet stuff, much easier than morning TV.”
The donuts were exactly what I needed to catch my second wind.
He was right that the remaining interviews were casual, fun even. We did video calls with fashion bloggers and lifestyle websites who were thrilled to talk to us. We managed to find our rhythm, playing off each other naturally, making each other laugh.
By the time we finished the last one, it was almost two in the afternoon.
“You have a few hours,” Adrian said, checking his watch. “The show doesn’t start until eight, but we need to be at the venue by six for final prep. Why don’t you go relax? Take a nap, decompress.”
“It’ll take too long to get back to my place and return,” I said.
“Then use my office.” He gestured around us. “It’s private, there’s a couch, bathroom, TV, snacks in the mini-fridge. Make yourself at home.”
The offer made me feel cared for. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”
“Elizabeth, I’m literally engaged to you. I think you can use my couch.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I need to go handle some last-minute details, but I’ll come get you at five-thirty. Get some rest.”
After he left, I stood in the middle of Adrian Blackwell’s office, taking it in. This was where he worked, where he made decisions that affected the entire company. And he’d just given me free run of it, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I curled up on his couch, expensive leather that was somehow still comfortable, and let myself pretend. Pretend this was my life. Pretend I really was Adrian’s fiancée and I belonged in this world. That I had a right to be here.
All those looks Adrian gave me—were any of them real? The sex had definitely been real. Mind-blowingly, life-alteringly real.
And the feelings I was trying so hard to ignore? Those were real too.
That was the problem. I had developed actual feelings for Adrian Blackwell in less than a week. How was that even possible? How could you fall for someone that fast?
Because he’s Adrian Blackwell, I thought. That’s how.
He had shown me sides of himself no one else got to see. I was sure of that. I knew he had never had a serious girlfriend. Was there anyone that had been close enough to get to know him?
But our arrangement would end. We’d stage our breakup, I’d get my job, and we’d go our separate ways. That was the deal.
The thought made my chest ache.
I pulled out my phone and called Chris to check in with him.
“Hey, sis!” His voice was cheerful. “Big night tonight! How are you feeling?”
“Nervous,” I admitted. “Excited but nervous. It’s all so much bigger than I imagined.”
“You’re going to be great. I’ve seen the press coverage. Everyone loves you two together.”
“Yeah, well, we’re getting pretty good at pretending.” Even to my own ears, I sounded sad.
“Lizzie, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.” I curled up tighter on the couch. “Are you coming tonight?”
“Of course! I’ll be there. Do you need me to come to the venue early?”
“No, I’ll see you there. Adrian’s coming to get me in a couple hours.”
“I’m excited for you,” he said. “This is so cool.”
“Thank you for making it happen for me.”
“Of course. I would do anything for you.”
Guilt washed over me. Chris would not be thrilled to know I had slept with Adrian. I wasn’t sure if he would be disappointed with me or pissed at Adrian. Or both more likely.
“I have to go,” I said abruptly. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
“I’ll see you tonight.”
I hung up and stared at Adrian’s office ceiling. The world I’d stumbled into was intoxicating. Beautiful. Everything I’d dreamed of.
But it had an expiration date.
And I had no idea how I was going to survive when it ended.